Memories Never Fade
by Xandria Malfoy
Summary: Something happens to Gregory Goyle over the summer...something no one can imagine. WIP! Co written by Shay
1. When the Summer Ends

Nobody knew just what had happened over the summer holiday or why Gregory Goyle had changed, but his friends were determined to find out. Goyle, as he was known to all of his friend, was never much of a talker. He was always sullen and foul, the typical school bully, but now he was deathly silent. All it took for Goyle to blow up these days was a look, a glance would even set him off. When he lost his temper, people and even animals got hurt.

Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe set him off the most. They started dating in their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, leaving Goyle with no one. He needed someone now more than ever, not to date but only to listen. Nobody wanted to bother with him right now, scared of being hurt by his temper.

Now Fifth Year was starting and Goyle found himself standing against a brick and concrete wall, awaiting the arrival of Crabbe and Malfoy. At long last he finally spotted them holding hands and walking towards him. He felt a tinge of jealousy and guilt surge through his body. He hated that they were together.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had always been very tight friends, almost as close as the Golden Trio. But in their fourth year Draco and Vincent had discovered each other and Goyle knew he now had nothing. He went home over summer holiday and withdrew to his room, never coming out.

"Hey, Goyle. Why didn't you respond to my letter over the summer?" Crabbe asked. Goyle watched as Draco put an arm around Crabbe's waist and fought not to beat them both to the ground.

"I've been been busy," Gregory said coldly.

"Oh. Come on then. Let's get a compartment before the train fills up," Vincent suggested, ignoring Greg's bitter mood and hateful glares he threw at them. Greg followed Draco and Vincent onto the Hogwarts Express, wishing he could disappear. He watched them as they playfully touched one another and winced as he thought of them being initmate, lusting for each other.

It made him angry, resentful and jealous. He closed his eyes and wished that he was back in his bedroom at the manor, doors and windows locked...no light. He sat silently as the train began to move and ignored questions tossed his way. He tried to block out the hateful images marching across his mind. Darkness began to fall as the clouds covered the sky, rain pouring onto the train as it moved swiftly down the tracks.

Malfoy tried to force Gregory to talk. "So what did you do over the summer, Goyle?"

Gregory shrugged his shoulders and continued staring outside. "Nothing. You?" Not that he really wanted to know.

"I spent the summer at Vincent's house. He sent you a letter asking if you wanted to stay with us," Draco said.

"Just shut it about the summer, ok? I didn't and don't want to discuss it with either of you!" Goyle shouted as he pushed himself from the seat. He ran from the compartment, willing his anger to stay within him. He failed. An unfortunate Gryffindor happened across his path, stepping on the hem of his school robe and ripping it. Before he could stop himself, Goyle was making a bloody mess of the poor boy. Ron Weasley and Hermione "know-it-all" Granger were witness to the terrible fight and ran for help. Gregory was covered in the young man's blood before several older Slytherin students tried to subdue him.

"Get off me! I'm gonna kill that little shit!" Goyle screamed, struggling to break free from Montague's grip. Harry Potter ran into the crowd and grabbed the Gryffindor boy. Famous Harry Potter...always there to save the bloody day.

"Colin, you alright?" Harry asked. Colin shook his head slightly, collapsing onto the floor. Goyle was dragged away, kicking and screaming into the bathroom. Draco and Crabbe watched in horror from their compartment.

The Mudblood Granger stopped in front of them and put her hands on her hips. "You need to let your goon know that this will be reported as soon as we get to school," she said smugly. Weasley and Potter pulled Colin Creevey's body into a nearby compartment, closing the door behind them.

Draco merely smirked at the sight and looked at Hermione. "Mind your own business, Mudblood. Goyle was completely in the right to beat that insolent prat."

"Watch it, Malfoy or you'll be next," Granger said, turning on her heels and left. Draco and Vincent made their way to the bathroom, hoping Goyle had calmed down. Instead they heard deep sobbing through the door; Goyle never cried about anything.

Draco knocked on the door and asked, "Greg, you alright?"

"Go away, damn it! Leave me alone!" Goyle screamed between sobs. Draco and Vincent exchanged surprised and worried looks. Draco pulled the door open and the sight inside scared him. Greg Goyle was sitting on the floor, his shirt torn into pieces from his own angry hands. His bare chest bore evidence of the summer's events. Thin white lines crisscrossed his torso, angry jagged scars that scared Draco and sickened Vince.

"Merlin's beard, Goyle, what has happened to you?" Draco asked, running a finger over a scar on Goyle's shoulder.

"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone!" Goyle shouted, jumping to his feet. He shoved Drco backwards out of the bathroom compartment and slammed the door, hoping to drown out the questions. Greg collapsed against the sink and closed his deep brown eyes, tears running down his cheek. After what had happened over the summer, how could he face his friends? People would ask questions in the showers after Quidditch games; he knew they would. Greg was humiliated and swore to Merlin to tell no one.


	2. The Dream

_The curtains on his windows were deep green, the color of forest foliage. He was in the habit of keeping them closed tightly. Gregory liked it dark. It let him sleep in and helped soothe him. It was in the dark that it happened. A hard pounding came at his door, his father screaming at him to come down for the meeting. Greg refused. He wanted to be alone in the dark and try to make his pain go away. His father had told him that he was to receive the Dark Mark that night. _

The pounding on the oak door got increasingly louder. Greg refused to open it. It began creaking on its hinges as his father continued to force his way in. Greg lay on his bed, the curtains closed; the room dark and cold. The door suddenly flew open, light flooding the room and his father's bulky shape filling the door frame.

"Get up, Gregory Alan Goyle. Come and join our guests," his father demanded, "Tonight is the night that the Dark Lord will mark you. You mustn't keep him waiting." Gregory only shook his head, avoiding his father's menacing eyes. "I said get up you fat, lazy son of a bitch!" His father advanced on him.

Greg remained still, lost in thoughts of his friends. He didn't know that his father had anything in his hand until he felt the first blow. The pain lashed across his face like a fiery blister. He raised his hand to the wound, noticing the blood on his fingertips when he drew them in front of his eyes.

"Whadjudothafo?" Greg mumbled. He knew what his father was yielding at that moment. It was a long piece of gold chain that bore the family chest. Gregory had taken it off earlier that day and left it on his nightstand, right next to the journal where he kept his deepest thoughts. Thoughts about receiving the Dark Lord's mark, thoughts about his family, thoughts about Vincent.

His eyes darted frantically to the table only to see the journal open, open to the page where he had poured out his feelings about Vince. His father had read his journal. He felt another lash from the chain, this one tearing his shirt. "You good for nothing piece of shit! You read my bloody journal!" Greg screamed at his father. The elder Goyle turned and kicked the door shut, locking the three bolts.

How dare you speak to me in that tone, you little faggot! Has Vince screwed you up the arse yet? Well your boyfriend isn't here to save you now, is he?" Gavin Goyle sneered coldly at his son.

"He's not my boyfriend! Why don't you leave me alone! I'm not taking the Dark Mark either," Greg told his father. Gavin wrapped his thick hands around his son's neck, forcing Greg onto his back on the bed.

"I'm going to teach you not to speak to me like that ever again." With a wave of his wand a bottle of clear liquid appeared on the nightstand. His father seized it, tearing off Gregory's shirt. "Paralyzus!"

Greg's arms flew above his hea and he found himself unable to move on his own free will. "Father? What are you doing?" Greg asked with a slight fear in his voice.

"Shut up!" The older man twisted off the cap and poured the contents onto Greg's wounds. Greg felt as though his body was on fire. He screamed out in pain and still unable to move. The liquid that had originally appeared to be a healing salve was quickly proven to be something else. Greg could feel the liquid fire as it burned into his skin, peeling back the torn layers. His father laughed as Greg tried to turn his face away from the searing pain.

"Why father? Why?" Greg choked out.

His father laughed manically as he replied, "To mark you. If you do not want the Dark Mark than you shall have my mark. No one will want you now. Not a woman and certainly not a man."

"Fuck you!" Greg cried out before he could stop himself. His father quit laughing and got an inch from his face.

"So that IS what you want, Gregory? I can do that..."

Gregory sat up in his bed, safe and awake in his dorm room at Hogwarts, tears flowing down his face. It was only a dream. He was safe now, out of the reach of his sinister father. He looked around the dorm; Draco and Vincent were cuddled up together on Draco's bed, Theo Nott slept on in his four-poster bed but the last bed was empty. Where was...

"Zabini?" Greg squinted in the darkness as a figure sat on his bed. He sat up nervously, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's just me, mate. You ok? You were talking in your sleep," Blaise Zabini said, handing Greg a glass of water. Greg took it thankfully.

"Fine. I'm fine, " Greg replied. He was shaking like mad and sweat covered his skin.

"I'm going to get Snape," Zabini said, getting up from the bed. Greg grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"I'm fine. Go back to bed," he whispered. Zabini looked at Goyle with slight concern but decided to leave him alone. Once Blaise was back asleep, Greg climbed out of bed and treaded quietly down to the common room. He was unaware, however, that he was not alone.


	3. Someone to Turn Too

"Mr. Goyle?" Greg's eyes snapped to the source of the silky voice. Severus Snape was standing near the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room dressed in his black dressing gown and staring into the flames of the handsome fire. "What pray tell are you doing out of bed so late?"

"I um...I couldn't sleep," Greg replied. Snape looked up to the fifteen-year-old boy and saw him standing there, arms crossed over his bare chest. Goyle had crossed his arms in hopes of hiding the brutal scars on his upper torso but he was too slow. Snape's eyes widened.

"Bloody hell! What happened to you?" Snape moved swiftly across the room and layed his hand upon Goyle's scarred chest. Greg's face grew red hot with humiliation as he forced his way around Professor Snape.

"Nothing. I hurt myself this summer playing Quidditch. That's all," Greg said, sitting on one of the leather sofas. Snape walked over and sat down next to his pupil.

"Mr. Goyle, if there's something bothering you then by all means you can tell me," he said, placing a hand on the young man's arm.

"Nothings going on!" Greg shouted, jumping up from the sofa. He walked over to the fireplace and rested his head on the mantle. Snape got up and walked over to him. He placed a warm hand on Greg's broad shoulders, feeling the young boys' soft skin.

_A hand on his shoulder, the sour taste of bile in his mouth, a searing pain that ripped through his body. His father's hot breath in his ear, "No one will want you now, you fat lazy idiot." Gavin pushed his son against the wall and grabbed Greg's face, forcing him to look into his father's almost black eyes. Greg choked back a scream of pain as his father forced himself onto him..._

Goyle cried out loud and fell to the floor. Lost in a memory of pain and humiliation, he pulled his knees to his chest and curled up into a fetal position. Snape watched in horror as his student folded in upon himself and, with his eyes, traced the scars across the young man's back. Jagged yet linear, those scars held a story that Snape was keen to hear.

Greg, however, was still lost in that memory; the fresh burning pain from the lashings with his own necklace, the tearing pain in his most private pf places, the memory of his father hurting im. Severus tried to shush the boy and calm him, but with each caress the large boy cowerd and shivered. "Gregory, let me help. Tell me what has happened to you," Snape said softly.

Greg cried softly, the warm and bitter tears bringing him back to that night. Always that night. "What did I do to deserve this?" He sobbed.

"What? What happened? Please tell me, Gregory. I'm here to help you," Snape whispered. He felt his heart break in two when Greg turned to him. He saw not only hurt in the boys' eyes but also shame and anger. Gregory, through heavy sobs and heaving breaths, began to tell Snape of what he had endured over the tortured summer holiday.

Severus listened to the tortured tale pour from lips that had never uttereed more than a few grunts in his Potions class. Gregory Goyle had become his father's toy, one he had hurt and abused. Goyle poured out the entire horrid story in words that Snape hadn't the heart to hear. He spoke in a monotone, emotionless, staring straight ahead.

Snape gasped several times as the boy coldly recounted the lost of his virginity to his own father. His innocence taken by a brute in hate and vengence. The lashings, the rape, the humiliation of torture, the imprisonment. Greg talked without ever looking at his audience and spoked volumes with his final silence.

Severua inched towards the boy once again, hoping to comfort the hulking boy but as his hand drew closer to the scarred flesh, Gregory seemed to regain his composure. "Do not touch me, sir." Goyle strainghtened up and looked at his Head of House. "I do not wish to be a burden on your mind. I will be fine. Forget what I have told you."

With those final words, Greg Goyle stood and walked from the room, holding himself as proudly as he could, considering the confession he'd made or maybe because of it.


End file.
